Break Down These Walls

The next morning, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil sat on the ends of their beds finishing getting dressed for the day ahead.   It was getting colder by the day and Lavender combatted this with tights under her skirt while Parvati Patil opted for her Gryffindor jumper over top of her dress shirt and tie.  The two young witches stood up and crossed over the scarlet and gold room to where a gilded mirror, about a metre in length, hung on the tapestried wall.  Lavender pinched her cheeks to give herself a natural flush before applying rouge while Parvati drew some plum lipstick across her mouth, a colour that complimented her rich skin tone.  The friends smiled at each other in the mirror.   “You look smashing,” Lavender told Parvati.  “Today is the day you can ask Harry Potter to the Yule Ball!”

Parvati rolled her eyes and turned to face the blond.  “Lavender, I can’t just ask Harry to the Ball,” she said, matter-of-fact.  “He’s probably had too many girls ask him already.  I’m not going to mean anything to him!” 

Patil was interrupted from carrying on by some soft snoring.  The two witches shared a look and peeked over their shoulders.  The snoring came from Hermione’s bed.  As Granger was usually up before the rest of them, the two hadn’t even considered that she was still in bed and had assumed that the closed curtains that surrounded her bedframe had been a personal preference for how the Muggle-born witch had made up her bed that day.  

Lavender brought her finger to lips, motioning to her friend to keep silent.  The two crept over to the right side of Hermione’s bed and Lavender grabbed the curtain.  She pulled it back and shouted at Hermione with such ferocity that her voice echoed in their large shared bedroom.  

“Granger, wake up!”  

Hermione seemed unfazed in her sleep and rolled over onto her right side.  Her head tucked further into her pillow and her shoulders relaxed.  Her mouth remained open slightly but her breathing had softened.

Lavender and Parvati shared a look and the Brown girl shrugged.  “At least she stopped snoring.”  Now it was the Patil twin’s turn to try something.  

Parvati reached forward and placed her hand on Hermione’s left shoulder, shaking the brunette witch softly.  “Hermione, do get up!” Patil encouraged.  Nothing.  She tried again, shaking a little harder.  Hermione’s eyes fluttered beneath closed eyelids but she remained asleep.  She lifted her hand up in slumber to ineffectively swat Parvati’s hand away.  Parvati smiled; Hermione was waking.  “Come on, Hermione, you’re going to be late!  All the good breakfast is going to be gone.”  The last part of the plea was almost whined.  Parvati loved her breakfast biscuits with custard and didn’t want to miss out.  At the last shake, a textbook slipped off of Hermione’s bed and fell to the floor with a soft thud.  

The sound woke Hermione and the witch sat upright in bed.  She realized just how close Lavender and Parvati stood and she screamed, drawing the covers of her bed up around her.  That caused more books to fall to the hardwood floor, from both underneath and below her sheets.  There was a moment of awkward silence, the only sound being the crackle of their fireplace in the middle of the room, and then Hermione watched as Lavender picked up one of the textbooks – 

Hermione lifted hand to interject.  “No, don’t!”

Lavender flipped it open.  When she saw what Hermione had researched, she smirked and gestured for Parvati to come around to her side of the bed.  Patil slowly walked around Hermione’s bed and read the pages over Lavender’s shoulder.  Then they both looked at Hermione.

“You’re researching love bites?” Lavender asked, tone almost mocking.  “Who on earth would you give you love bites?”  Her eyes narrowed as she looked to Hermione’s face and neck, observing.  “I don’t see any.”

“That’s because the charms worked,” Hermione replied as she leaned over and snatched the book out of the blonde’s hands.  Parvati started to pick up Hermione’s textbooks from the floor and placed them neatly in a pile at the foot of Hermione’s bed.  “And who I snog is none of your business, Lavender.”

Lavender smirked.  “I didn’t realize you knew how to snog, Hermione.  Bit of late bloomer, are you?” This comment earned her a swat on her arm from the Patil twin, who had reached across the bed to give her friend a good smack.

“Lavender, stow it!  She really doesn’t owe us any explanation.”  She handed her stacked books to Hermione, who thanked her softly and placed them on her nightstand.  “I’m sure whatever Hermione is doing, it’s fun for her and we should support her as our friend.”

“We are not friends,” Hermione and Lavender said at the same time.  The two witches looked at each other and then looked away.  Granger pulled her curtains back around her bed.  

“Give me a minute to get dressed and we’ll go down to breakfast!”

When Hermione had dressed in her uniform of dress shirt, tie, skirt and tights, she emerged from the cocoon of her curtained bed and strode into the girls’ shared bathroom.  She brushed her teeth as a charmed hairbrush tempted to tame her wild hair.  When she returned to Lavender and Parvati, Hermione slipped on her robe, slung her brown leather bookbag over her shoulder and slipped on her black flats.  

“Alright, let’s get on.  And thanks for waking me, by the way.”  Parvati smiled and told Hermione that it was no trouble, Lavender grumbled about they could have just left her.  Hermione rolled her eyes and tried to ignore the blonde as they left the girls’ dormitory together and headed down the stairs.  As they passed through the common room, they saw that Fred was standing with Lee by large bay window near the fireplace.  The redhead was leaning back against the stone wall beside the bay window with his arms crossed, chatting animatedly with his best mate.  In the brief second that the girls passed by, Hermione noted that Fred wore his knitted Gryffindor jumper, the maroon one with the marigold stripe across the chest and some very, fitted, light brown corduroys.  Hermione bit her lower lip as her eyes flicked over Fred’s muscled thighs.   She had had her legs wrapped around those when she had snogged the freckled wizard last night.  And now, it was all she could think about.

“You alright, Granger?” Fred teased with a smirk.  “You look like you’re still dreaming!”  She hadn’t realized he had noticed her quick glance.

“Hm?” Hermione asked, the fog clearing in her head.  She changed her expression to a soft smile.  “Yeah, Fred, I’m alright!  Definitely going to need coffee this morning though!  Hi Lee.”  She gave the other Gryffindor a small wave, which he returned, and then she, Parvati and Lavender exited the common room through the portrait hole.  The Fat Lady made a comment about how Lavender had rolled up her skirt and to Hermione’s surprise, Lavender lifted her right hand into the air and flipped the portrait off with her middle finger.  The three girls then ran towards the Grand Staircase and began their descent downward to the Great Hall.  The trip to the Great Hall took a few extra minutes due to the stairs changing paths.  When the trio finally arrived, they spotted Harry and Ron sat at their own places.  Hermione gestured for she and the girls to go and sit by her two best friends.  Parvati blushed but nodded eagerly.

Lavender sat beside Ron while Hermione sat to the left of Harry and Parvati on the right. 

“Morning, ’Mione,” Harry greeted.  “Girls.”

“Hi Harry,” Hermione watched Parvati reply with a smile.  The twin noticed that Harry had a custard biscuit on his plate and grew excited. “Oh, excellent!  I didn’t miss them!”  Hermione watched her friend’s eyes dart around the table to spot the serving tray with the biscuits.  After a few seconds had gone by, Parvati turned back to Harry.  “Did you see any biscuits with custard left?”

Ron looked sheepishly from Patil to his plate before Harry could answer. “Oh.  No, erm, I just ate the last one from the tray.”

Hermione sighed as Parvati’s face fell and she looked as though she may cry.  “Here, Parvati, have some trifle instead?” the brunette offered.  She passed a glass jar of trifle layered with cake, fruit and cream across Harry’s plate to place in front of Parvati.  The Patil twin visibly pouted.

“I don’t want it,” Parvati managed to reply.  

Harry looked from his plate, upon which the final custard biscuit sat, and sighed.  He picked it up with his left hand and gently placed it on Parvati’s plate.  “Here, take mine.”

Hermione watched her friend’s expressions change from sadness to surprise to delight at Harry’s offering.  It was cute that Parvati visibly had a crush on Harry Potter and yet the Chosen One seemingly had no clue.

“Thank you, Harry!  You’re a dear,” the Patil twin said in a rush of excitement.  Without thinking, she leaned over and kissed Harry’s cheek before turning to pick up her custard biscuit and taking a bite.  Hermione watched Harry slowly lift his right hand to his cheek, placing it over the spot where Parvati had kissed and her eyes met those of her best friend.

Hermione smirked but said nothing and decidedly served herself some coffee, adding two tablespoons of milk and a teaspoon of sugar.  It was just enough sweetness to set her day off on the right foot which she was especially thankful for considering the lack of sleep she had had the night prior.

After a few minutes, Harry and Ron left, having finished their breakfast.  Hermione knew they would go back up the common room before heading to class.  She made a mental note to arrive to class before the boys, not wanting to be late.  The brightest witch finished a trifle of her own and pulled out her time table to go over the day’s schedule.  It was a Friday and the fourth-year Gryffindors had a packed schedule: History of Magic in the morning, Charms in the early afternoon and then Double Potions to top off the evening.  Hermione inwardly groaned at the idea of sitting with Snape for two and a half hours.  While she was best in her class at Potions, besides perhaps Draco Malfoy, Hermione, like most Gryffindors, had a strong dislike for Professor Snape and ever since Snape had been “convinced” that he had seen Hermione go through the Gryffindor portrait hole before Fred all those weeks ago, he had been harder on her in Potions class.  

After the brunette witch had selected and eaten a handful of strawberries, she decided it was time to head off to class.  Knowing that she would see Lavender and Parvati in History of Magic with the other fourth-year Gryffindors in mere minutes, Hermione bid them a quick “I’ll see you later!” as she got up from the table.  She swung her legs over the bench seat and headed down the aisles the House tables made towards the exit of the Great Hall.  She passed through the ornately carved doors and turned the corner into the main corridor, not minding where she was going, and smacked into someone’s chest.  The impact forced her to step back, disoriented, and she felt a hand grip her left elbow for support.  When she was able to focus again, her blurred vision cleared to see that her victim had been Viktor Krum.  The Durmstrang student wore his brown uniform.  

“I am so sorry, Viktor,” she spluttered.  “Are you alright?”

“Are you?” Viktor replied with a chuckle.  He ascertained that she was steady and let go of her elbow.  “You are the one that came flying into me, Herm-own-ninny.”

“I’m fine,” Hermione said quickly.  Her cheeks burned red from embarrassment.  “Sorry again.”  She tried to walk around him to keep heading to class but Viktor stepped in front of her.

“I have a question to ask you,” he said, his tone insistent.  Hermione looked up at the Bulgarian Seeker with a sigh.  

“I really don’t mean to be rude, Viktor, but I’m going to be late to class,” she replied.  “If you have a question, it’s going to have to wait until later.  But I’ll meet up with you in between classes, maybe?”

She gave him a small smile as a goodbye and walked around him, quickening her pace to make up for the brief time she had lost dallying in the corridor.  To her surprise, Krum wasn’t so easily deterred and made to follow her.  In mere seconds, his walking pace matched her own and he strode alongside her down the corridor.

Viktor smiled at her stubbornness.  “How was the rest of your day at Honeydukes after you had tea with me?”

“Is that your burning question?” Hermione retorted.  Viktor chuckled again. 

“No, it’s not.”

Hermione sighed.  “Honeydukes was alright, I met up with a few friends and then bought a Butterbeer and came back!  Not too eventful.”  

The two continued to push through the waves of students going their various ways to classes although with Krum walking beside her, Hermione found it was a little easier than usual to get by.  Their footsteps contributed to the resounding off-rhythm of multiple pairs of students’ shoes carrying across the stone floor of the Hogwarts corridors.  

Hermione chanced a look at one of the many large clocks that had been carved into the stone walls of the Hogwarts castle. She had ten more minutes until she was officially considered late to History of Magic, a class she was thoroughly engrossed in.  She had to get up to the second floor and fast.  She was aggravated that Krum still hadn’t given up on speaking with her and so, with a huff, she turned around to face him in the hallway.  She crossed her arms in front of her chest and her mouth formed a thin line.

“Herm-own-ninny, what is the matter?” Krum asked, amused when she was cross.  “Did I do something wrong?”

“Are you going to follow me all the way to class until you’re able to ask me the question that you want?” Hermione demanded.  When he said nothing in response, she sighed.  “Listen, I have to go.”  She pushed past him and started walking again but Krum caught up with her once more and reached out caught the cuff of her robe with the tips of his fingers.  “What on earth are you doing?” Hermione asked he pulled gently on her robe, pulling her closer to him.  “Viktor, I’m serious, I really can’t be late, can’t this wait?” She was getting angry now.

“Herm-own-ninny, calm down!  It will be two minutes, I promise.”  His eyes implored her to listen to reason.  She groaned in annoyance and pulled her robe out of his grasp but stood in place.  

“You have five seconds,” she said, her foot tapping on the floor in frustration.  This caused Viktor to smirk again.  Hermione wanted to slap the smug look from his face.  What was it with men pushing her around until they got the answer they wanted?  Five, four, three, two - 

“I wanted to know if you wanted to be my date to the Yule Ball,” Viktor said. 

Time stopped.  Hermione almost choked.  She hadn’t expected that.  The anger fizzled out of her body completely and she bit her lip, anxious.  Had he just really said what she thought he said?   The brunette witch looked around them as the other students walked, buying time to answer.  Some jostled her as they passed but most stared at Krum, still in awe of his titles and the fact that he was physically in their school.  They didn’t pay her any mind.

As she hadn’t replied, Krum continue on, hoping to win her favour.

“You’re the only person here who has shown me a true kindness,” the Bulgarian Seeker explained.  “I am told that I must have a date on my arm at the Yule Ball, being one of the Triwizard Champions, but I don’t want to have one if she’s not you.  So – ”  

Here, he paused and then slowly reached his right hand out to brush his fingers on the back of Hermione’s left.  A tentative, affectionate action.  Soothing.  Trying to reassure her.  

“I just wanted you to know that it would be my biggest honour if I could accompany you.”  He sensed her hesitation and going a little further, his right hand wrapped around her left and he gave it a small squeeze.  “But there is no pressure - we can even go as friends.”  He chuckled, his voice warm.  “Come on, Herm-own-ninny, how bad could it be?  I don’t bite.”

Hermione looked down at where Krum’s hand lightly held her own.  She sucked in a breath and then checked behind her as if to validate where the corridor itself met the Grand Staircase.  She was going to have to make a mad dash for it to make it to class when this little moment was over.  

Realizing that he wasn’t going to be the one to let go, Hermione pulled her hand from Viktor’s and took a step back.  

“Listen, Viktor, I’m not going to lie to you,” she said after a moment.  “I am waiting for somebody else to ask me.  Not that I’m not flattered but -”

The hand she had released now went to her left shoulder and Krum’s eyes met hers again.  

“Herm-own-ninny, I told you we could go as friends.  Just - think about what I’ve said.  I will wait for your answer.”  He lowered his hand from her shoulder, clicked his heels together in militaristic style, turned on his heel and walked off back down the corridor.  

BONG!

Hermione was brought back to reality by the sound of the Hogwarts’ clock tower chiming the hour.  It was 9AM.  That meant class had started, which meant she was officially late.

Oh bollocks, Hermione muttered to herself.  With one last look at Viktor’s retreating form, she turned around and ran for the Grand Staircase.  She made it to the History of Magic classroom on the second floor to see that other students were also arriving late.  Perhaps the Grand Staircase had trumped them all that morning.  And, as she sat down at her desk and took her parchment from her bookbag, she realized with a satisfied smirk that despite all that held her up this morning, Hermione had still managed to beat Ron and Harry to class.  By two minutes.

-

Hermione had just finished Charms and was headed to Double Potions with Harry and Ron.  Since Parvati and Lavender had been around Hermione in the morning, Harry and Ron had waited to ask her about how her Hogsmeade trip had gone and she talked of running into Fred and George and buying some sweets.  

Harry talked of the three of them going to the Burrow possibly in between Christmas Day and the New Year. At the mention of the Burrow, Hermione’s stomach flipped.  She hadn’t considered visiting the Burrow during the holidays this year, but now that she and Fred were in a – whatever this was, Hermione’s mind raced through the fantasies of what she and Fred could get up to in the darkened corners of the Burrow.   

The infatuated witch continued to be distracted with daydreams of Fred’s lips on her skin when Snape broke her out of her fantasy by slamming his copy of the fourth-year Potions textbook down on her desk and spilling her inkwell.  Hermione jumped in her seat and hastily tried to pick up the little bottle before too much ink spilled across her sheets of parchment.  Oh dear.

“Miss Granger, daydreaming in my class, it seems?” the Potions Master snarled.  Hermione ran the back of her hand across her forehead, embarrassed.  

“So sorry, Professor.  I had a long night and not much sleep,” she explained after a moment.  “Can you repeat your question, please?”

Snape’s lip curled into a menacing smirk.  “No, Miss Granger, I don’t think I will.”  He opened up the Potions textbook to the page that the class was focused on.  “The Wit-Sharpening Potion seems to be apt for whatever has you so distracted.  I want you to read this entire chapter and write an essay on it in your own words.  I expect it to be on sheeted parchment, lines tight rather than spaced and I want at least eight paragraphs and six pages. This is due by end of class.” 

Hermione knew she deserved it as she hadn’t been paying attention.  The witch looked down at her desk at the open textbook and the dark ink stain that had now seeped into her parchment due to Snape’s actions.  She sighed and pulled some new sheets of parchment from her bag.   When Snape walked back to the front of the room, Ron and Harry leaned over to ask Hermione if she was okay.  The brunette shrugged and upon Vanishing the ruined parchment with her wand, she picked up her quill, dipped it in the ink and started writing on the new parchment.

She wrote about the history of the potion and how it was popularly used as an antidote to the Confundus Charm.  She listed ingredients, the uses, how they benefitted the brewing of the potion and even how long the potion carried a shelf life.  By the time the Double Potions class was done, Hermione had finished her essay.  She promised Harry and Ron that she would catch up with them later and as they left with the rest of the fourth-year students, Hermione brought her essay up to Professor Snape and placed it lightly on his desk.  

“I’m sorry, sir,” she said after a moment.  She watched the greasy-haired teacher pick up her essay and thumb through its pages.  “I won’t be absent-minded like that again.  I know that I’m better than that and despite what you think of me, you know I’m better than that, too.”

Snape looked down at her from past the end of his hooked nose, his eyes squinted.  

“What I think of you?  Miss Granger, I can assure you, I have more important things to occupy my time and mind than to think of you, Potter or any one of your little friends.”  

He started reading her essay and the Gryffindor watched, anxious.  His expression changed from snide to slack as he realized, as always, just how good her writing truly was.  He sighed and kneaded his brow with his right hand in the middle of page three and set her essay back down on his desk.  

“Miss Granger, it’s very clear you know and understand the material,” he began, his mask of disdain back in place on his pallid face.  “I will deduct 10 points for the daydreaming but your essay is quite good and I do not need to finish it to know that. You’re very bright.”  He looked from her place where she stood in front of her desk to the place where her bookbag sat on the floor and then back to her once more.  “You may go.”

Hermione turned and quickly went back to her desk to collect her things.  Once everything was put away and her bookbag was slung over her shoulder, she headed for the door of the Potions classroom.

“Oh, Miss Granger, one more thing,” came Snape’s voice, almost sing-song.  Hermione’s skin prickled.  She slowly turned around.

“Yes, Professor?” she hesitantly asked.

“The next time you decide to have a secret rendezvous with someone, perhaps make sure that you’ve taken everything with you,” Snape advised.  

The younger witch watched as her professor reached under the lip of his desk and pulled open a small drawer.  When he reached inside, he pulled an object out and presented it to Hermione by letting it fall onto his desk with a small thud.  It was her bag of salted chocolate caramels from the night before.  They must have fallen from her coat pocket in the middle of it all and neither she nor Fred had noticed. Of course, they had both been otherwise preoccupied.  Careful not to translate her inner panic to her voice, Hermione spoke with forced resolve.

“Those aren’t mine, Professor,” she insisted.  

In response, Snape clucked his tongue, chiding her.  Miss Granger watched as her teacher opened up the bag of chocolates and took one out, grasping it lightly between his fingers.  He looked to be studying its surface.  He gauged Hermione’s reaction to the chocolate and when she was still masking her expressions, he smirked and popped the chocolate into his mouth.

“You needn’t lie, you know, “He told her with a calculated tone.  “I know that these sweets are yours, Miss Granger.  Do you want to know how?”  

He didn’t wait for Hermione to answer before pressing on.  

“One of my first-year students came to my class late this morning.  He had explained his tardiness due to entering a different classroom in error.  And then told me that he found these.”

As he swallowed the chocolate sweet, he closed his right fist around the bag and closed it with a slow crunch.  “I know of a charm that detects fingerprints.  It’s quite useful when dealing with potions and the like as it helps me deduce who brewed it and if it’s safe to ingest based on the brewer.  You can never be too careful.  If you were an Auror, you’d be trained to use it at the scene of a crime.  But no matter…”  

Snape’s beady eyes were locked on hers, challenging her to break.  He stood up and put his hands on the top of his desk.  He was doing this interrogation style.  Hermione’s panicking heart started beating even faster. 

“When I performed my charm, imagine my shock to discover the fingerprints matched that of my first-year student, obviously, and a certain Muggle-born fourth-year witch.  I happened to be patrolling that corridor last night so you must have either been by to one of the classrooms after I left or you were using a Silencing charm to do something you shouldn’t have been doing while I was around.  I know you were out past curfew.  However, since a bag with fingerprints doesn’t give me an exact time that you were there, this is all based on my deductive reasoning, of course.”

Hermione let her façade slip for a fraction of a second and Snape grinned cruelly.  He could tell by the look on her face that he had caught her at last.  She couldn’t hold it in for that long.  Hermione had never heard of such a charm but even if he had been lying about using it, she was caught now.  She sighed and walked forward to snatch the bag of sweets off her professor’s desk.  She shoved the parcel into her bookbag and made to leave when Snape cleared his throat.  Hermione stopped and winced.  When she turned back around to face her professor, the only sound that could be heard inside the classroom was the gentle bubble of a potion that was just starting to boil behind the Potions Master.  It set Hermione’s nerves on edge.

Snape sat back down in his chair and fixed his student with a steely gaze again.  

“Miss Granger, as I said before, you are quite clever. Therefore, I will offer you this one piece of advice.  Boys at your age are cruel.  I know because I was one and I was tormented by a group of them.”  

His tone was bitter and cold.  

“Stick to your lessons.  I once knew a girl who lost her wits and potential because she fell in love with the wrong man and it ended up being the reason she died.  I understand that you may have certain … needs … that you are wanting to explore.  But losing your wits by running off with boys and doing Merlin knows what…. Do not let that be you, Miss Granger, not even if it’s for the Chosen One or that Durmstrang boy.”  Snape then smirked again.  “Although, from what I’m reading, you do seem to have a reputation for Seekers.”

At his implications, Hermione saw red.  It was clear that the Potions Master knew she had snuck around.  But the fact that he not only believed that she was slagging about the school with Harry and Krum based on what Skeeter wrote but that, somehow, he had related her snogging with boys and “losing her wits” back to Harry’s mom’s relationship with Harry’s dad as teens and ultimately, Harry’s mom’s death?  

That was the last straw for Hermione.  

The air seemed to crackle around her with electricity.  She dropped her bookbag to the floor and her hands curled into fists, glaring at the greasy-haired man.  Then, the voice that erupted from her mouth sounded unlike anything she had ever heard before.  It was angry and bitter and full of disgust and loathing.  

“Firstly, Professor, if you’re talking about Harry’s mum, she didn’t lose her academic ‘potential’ because she was distracted by Harry’s dad.  They fell in love, got married and had a baby and she died protecting that baby with her unconditional love, which is something that you will never receive from another person.”  

That comment smarted.  Snape grew rigid in his chair and his pale face had begun to turn red in anger.  But Hermione wasn’t finished.  She walked right up to her professor’s desk and slammed her palm down on the surface.

“Secondly, I would really appreciate if you –” 

Here, she pointed her finger at the older wizard.  

“Along with the rest of the wizarding world can kindly shove out of my supposed love life.  What I do or don’t outside of your classroom is not your concern.  Thirdly, do you even realize that you just essentially called me slag for being off in classrooms after hours with potentially not one but two different boys?  Do you understand how completely inappropriate that is?  I reckon that you’re quite lucky that I don’t report you to Professor Dumbledore.” 

Snape had started frothing at the mouth at her outburst, he was so angry.  No student had ever dared to speak to him like that.  Satisfied with the blows she had dealt, Hermione withdrew her hand from Snape’s desk and walked back to where her bookbag sat on the floor.  She picked it up, secured it to her person and clutched the strap of her bookbag tighter.  

“Have a great rest of your evening, Professor,” she said snidely. 

The brunette witch stormed towards the back of the Potions classroom, smirking as she retreated.  As the classroom remained silent, the sound of Snape finally snapping and screaming at her reverberated off the stone walls.

“30 points from Gryffindor!”

Hermione Granger had reached the back of the classroom.

“50 points!”  Hermione didn’t stop.  She opened the thick wooden door.  Snape was livid now.

“100 points from Gryffindor, you insufferable little brat!”  

Hermione almost giggled out loud as she passed through the open doorway and slammed it shut behind her with a resounding bang!  She heard her professor scream with rage from inside.  Oh, she was definitely going to have to tell Fred about this.

-

When Hermione returned to the Gryffindor common room, she climbed through the portrait hole to see that Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George, Neville, Dean, Seamus and Lee all stood around waiting for her with their arms crossed and frustrated expressions.  What was this?

As Hermione continued to approach them, her friends all moved to the side and Professor McGonagall was revealed to be standing behind them.  

Shit.

“Um, hello,” Hermione said with an awkward smile.  She looked to each one of her friends’ faces.  None of them spoke.  McGonagall’s eyes were sharp and trained on Hermione like a hawk to a mouse.  When her friends still didn’t speak, Hermione looked to her Head of House.

“Professor, what - ?”

“100 points, Miss Granger?” McGonagall said.  Her tone was accusatory.  “What on earth did you do to earn such a deduction from Professor Snape?  And please make it good because the rest of your friends in Gryffindor House are clearly quite upset.”

Hermione ran a hand through her hair and looked down at her shoes.  The confidence she had felt while telling off Snape had dissipated.

“Can we talk about this privately?” she asked.  But McGonagall was resilient and stood there, waiting for Hermione’s explanation.  The brunette groaned and set her bookbag down on the ground.  

“Alright well, if everyone has to know - it all started when I was caught daydreaming in class,” she began.  “So Snape –“

“Professor Snape,” McGonagall admonished.  Hermione nodded once and corrected herself.

“Professor Snape deducted 10 points for that.”

McGonagall, clearly frustrated, gave a little snort.  “Oh, so I was misinformed,” she said at last.  “It’s actually 110 points deducted total.  My mistake.”  The Scottish witch crossed her arms in front of her chest and Hermione paled.  It meant trouble.  “Do continue, Miss Granger.  We are all waiting.”

“I wrote Professor Snape an essay about the Wit-Sharpening Potion during class and handed it in as an additional punishment for my daydreaming.  At the end of class, I went to leave but Professor Snape had a final word for me.  He had found something of mine.”

“And what was that?” Professor McGonagall asked.  

“My sweets from yesterday at Hogsmeade.  They were salted chocolate caramels and I had had in them in the pocket of my coat.  A first-year of Professor Snape’s found the bag of sweets in an empty classroom this morning and he turned the bag over to him.”

McGonagall’s lips pursed.  “And how did they get into the classroom from your pocket?” she asked.

Here, Hermione’s eyes darted from her professor and Head of House to the faces of her friends.  The last face she focused on was Fred’s.  Now that she had partially explained, he didn’t look so upset as when she had first come into the common room.  In fact, he looked rather intrigued by what she had to say.  And how she was going to get out of this one without admitting that they had been doing some unmentionable things in that abandoned classroom last night.  The corners of his mouth curled up into a small smile and he gave her a wink, encouraging her to keep going.  

Hermione pushed on.  “I’m not going to lie, Professor,” she began.  “I did come home a little late after curfew yesterday.  I had had a Butterbeer in Hogsmeade and I lost track of time.  It was only a little past 8.”  

A lie.  

“And I heard Peeves coming along so I ducked into an empty classroom to hide.” 

Another lie.  

“When I heard he was gone, I came back up to the common room and went to bed.  But I suppose I left my chocolates behind.”

McGonagall sighed.  While she didn’t condone her students being late, it wasn’t like Hermione to be out after hours.  She was a star pupil.  

“Professor Snape deducted 100 points from you hiding from Peeves?” the older witch tried to clarify but Hermione shook her head.  

“No,” she corrected.  “No, um - Professor Snape implied that I had been out in the classroom after hours with someone.  Physically, I mean.  And he told me that that was the only reason I could have been out past curfew.  Then he essentially warned me about being a slag and falling in love with the wrong boy, told me that I should focus on my studies and implied that I was seeing both Harry and Viktor Krum, that boy from Durmstrang.  He also mentioned something about Harry’s mum in the mix – So, I, um – I told him to keep out of my love life and that it was my business and I told him that it was disgustingly inappropriate to mention Harry’s mum.  I also told him that he was lucky I didn’t report him to Professor Dumbledore for implying I was a slag.”

McGonagall’s lips were pursed and her face had turned from red to purple in anger.  Her wrinkled hands were fisted.  Hermione looked from the Deputy Headmistress to the rest of the Gryffindors.  All of their mouths were open, gobsmacked, including Fred.

Hermione was quick to add something else, as if to ease the burden of what she had just said.  “I didn’t pull my wand on Professor Snape or anything, I promise.  He didn’t like being told off so that’s when he deducted points.”

There was another moment of silence and then all of the Gryffindors reacted at once.

Harry and Ron looked like they were ready to go and beat Snape into the ground physically themselves.

Fred’s mouth had set into a hard line and his right hand, clutched around his wand, had white knuckles.  He was trying hard not to break. 

George, Lee, Neville and Dean were all holding back a cursing Seamus.  “That dirty, rotten, no good - !”

Ginny seethed quietly, red angered cheeks matching her hair.  She, too, clutched her wand like Fred.  Hermione was her best girl friend and anyone who called anyone a slag in front of Ginny was usually at the receiving end of one of her practiced hexes.  McGonagall held up her left hand to silence all of her charges.  They all quieted after a moment, respecting their professor.    

Hermione’s eyes met Fred’s.  He looked determined, as if he would fight the world for her.  It gave her goosebumps and she fought the urge to cross the room and snog him right then.  He made her heart feel so full.  

The Head of Gryffindor house cleared her throat and spoke, crossing the room to Hermione as she did so.  “How did Professor Snape prove that the bag was yours?”

Hermione reached down into her bookbag and produced the sweets.  “I mean, they were mine, Professor, but…”

“That’s not what I asked you, Miss Granger,” McGonagall corrected.  “Professor Snape didn’t use Veritaserum on you, did he?”

Hermione was quick to shake her head.  Using the Truth potion on a student was illegal.

“No, Professor, he told me that there was some sort of charm that detected fingerprints and that he had used it.”

McGonagall held out her hand and Hermione dropped her bag of sweets into her wrinkled palm.  McGonagall lifted them up, examined the little parcel with her aging eyes through cat-eye spectacles, gave a small laugh, and handed them back to the younger witch.

“Miss Granger, there is no such thing as a spell for fingerprints.  The closest magic we have to that is a Tracking charm – but it tracks footprints instead.  I believe Professor Snape was trying to “catch you red-handed”, as the Muggles say.  And while you didn’t admit to the precarious scenario that he put you in, you did make an admission of some kind when you took the chocolates back.  But –”  

The older witch lifted her left hand to rest on Hermione’s right shoulder with a tenderness.  

“That does not excuse him for accusing you of physical relations with one or more students, after hours or otherwise, nor does it excuse him from speaking ill of the deceased, especially a relation to a student.  I shall go and speak to him.  Our 100 points will be restored.”  

She patted Hermione’s shoulder once.  “I am proud that you stood your ground against him.”  Then, McGonagall looked over her shoulder to the rest of the Gryffindors.   “Not to worry, I know what I am doing.  As it is a Friday evening, I will bid you all a good night and I shall see you on Monday morning.”  Then, the Scottish witch passed by Hermione and out the portrait hole.

The gathered Gryffindors waited until they could no longer hear McGonagall’s footsteps and then.  

“Did he really call you a slag, Granger?” from Lee.

“What did he say about my mum?” from Harry. 

“He’s lucky we don’t introduce him to some of our inventions we’ve been working on.  It would give him a rotten taste of revenge,” said George.

The rest of the Gryffindors all gave Hermione affirmations for having told Snape off.  Hermione accepted hugs and pats on the back from all, save for Fred, who she noticed stood back from the rest of the group.  He looked at her with admiration and had his arms folded comfortably across his broad chest.  When he realized she was watching him, he flexed, and Hermione felt herself melt.  She quickly turned her attention back to her friends and continued talking animatedly about what had happened with Snape.

When all the congratulations had finished, the rest of the Gryffindors made their way through the portrait hole with the intention of going down to dinner in the Great Hall as a group.  Hermione sent them off with a little wave and crossed over to where she had left her bookbag on the floor, picking it up with her free hand that wasn’t holding her bag of sweets.  She straightened and as she adjusted her bookbag on her shoulder, she felt the hips of Fred Weasley press against the back of her skirt.  Hermione smirked and turned in his arms. 

“And what do you want, exactly?” she asked him playfully, raising an eyebrow as she looked up at him.  Her eyes darted across the dusting of freckles over his face and lips and she fought the urge to bite his lower lip like she had the night before.  He leaned his forehead down to hers and his hands moved to her hips, pulling her closer.  He smelled like woods and cinnamon again and Hermione wanted to get lost in the scent of him forever.  They kissed for a few moments, their lips molded together easily.  When they broke apart, Fred’s eyes were dark again, and when he spoke, his voice was husky.  

“I don’t know how you did it.  The fact that you lied through teeth about being with me last night and told off Snape and managed to convince McGonagall to give us our points back – you’re truly brilliant.”  

The older wizard tilted his head further down and pressed his lips to the soft skin of her neck.  

“I think you like being bad, Hermione.  And I think I like corrupting you.”

Hermione shivered when his lips contacted her skin and pressed her chest as close to his as she could, save for the bag of sweets that was still in between them.  “I thought I was done for,” she admitted, fighting a moan.  “I thought Snape had me caught, I thought I was going to get detention for life.”

“Maybe we could have detention together,” he said through his ministrations.  “Imagine what we could get up to with three hours alone.”  

“I don’t need to imagine,” Hermione replied, her voice hoarse.  “We had three hours alone together last night.”

Fred chuckled against her neck and then sucked once – then again.  Her pulse raced.  He lifted her up so that she was sitting on the back of the scarlet Gryffindor couch.  The fire crackled in its fireplace, echoing what Hermione was feeling. Not satisfied at how close she was to him, Fred lifted the bag of sweets out of her grasp with his right hand and he dropped the bag behind her onto the couch.  His freckled hand then returned to its previous place on her waist, squeezing it once, and then Fred Weasley slid is down further to cup the curve of her bottom through her skirt, pulling her into him even further. Her whole body was pressed against his now, setting her alight.  To be more comfortable, she moved her thighs apart slightly so that he could rest his right knee between her legs and the difference in texture of his corduroys versus her tights was oddly enticing. Her hands, now free from holding anything, moved to rest on Fred’s chest.  The wool of his Gryffindor jumper scratched against her palms.

He pulled his head back for a moment to admire her, pink cheeks and breathless.  “You’re beautiful,” he said with a small smirk.  Hermione blushed deeper.  Fred lifted his hands to grace the sides of her throat gently and his thumbs curved along the underside of her chin.  He tiled her head back a little and brought his lips back to her skin.  

 “Where are all the delicious marks I gave you?” he asked.  His lips and teeth, sucking, grazing and biting against her skin, moved from her neck to her collarbone.  “From here – to here – and here.”  He moved his hands to unbutton the top few buttons of her dress shirt and loosened her Gryffindor tie.  “Where did they go?”

“I charmed them,” Hermione explained as her eyes fluttered closed.  “I didn’t want people to see.”

The fabric of her bra was exposed a little now and Fred chuckled in the little valley formed by her breasts.  His tongue darted out of his mouth to lick along the exposed swell of her left breast that peaked over her bra and Hermione sucked in a breath.  

“I would love for everyone to know that you’re mine,” he told her.  “You should wear them like a badge of honour.  I didn’t cover up yours.  When George asked, I told him that I had started seeing a little witch and that she was blowing my mind.  It’s not a lie.”  

He stopped his ministrations to stand up straight and he moved his long hair out of the way from his neck.  Indeed, peeking just above the collar of his jumper, was the love bite Hermione had given him, her first one ever.  She had actually been quite proud of herself for that one.

Hermione blushed and looked down at her rumpled dress shirt and slightly exposed chest.  “I’m not really doing anything,” she said, suddenly shy.  

To her surprise, Fred cupped her face again and turned her head upward to look at him.  He brought his lips onto hers with a sweetness that made her heart ache. 

“You don’t have to do much to make me melt, Granger.  I’ve been putty in your hands for a while.  You could look at me and make me melt, I promise you that.”

Since he was still standing between her thighs, Hermione wasn’t blind to feeling how aroused Fred was.  The friction of him pressed against her caused her to shudder.  But they weren’t ready for that yet.  Their kiss deepened and they only broke apart, breathless, when Fred’s body pressed a little further between Hermione’s thighs and she had felt his arousal.  She looked down to realize that he had a very apparent bulge in his trousers.  Fred, still trying to catch his breath, looked down to where her gaze trailed and smirked. 

“See something you like, do you?” he teased.  Hermione’s eyes met his.  She didn’t look away as she blushed and slowly nodded, biting her lip.  It wasn’t time for them to go there, yet, they both knew it.  But the temptation was there.  The tension was there.  Oh, how they both wished they could break it.

Fred gestured for her to get down from the couch and when her feet were safely on the floor, he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close, his lips pressed against her forehead fiercely and he inhaled, as if he was savouring her scent just as much as she enjoyed his.  Their faces were both flushed.

“You’re driving me fucking mental, Granger,” Fred Weasley cursed against her skin.  “I’m going to lose my mind when I’m with you, I just know it.”

“We can be mad together then,” Hermione promised with a small smirk.  She looked up at the freckled wizard again and sighed.  “I suppose I should head down to the Great Hall now.  After I put my sweets away, of course.  I wouldn’t want the others to suspect why we’re taking so long.”

“You’re going down without me?” Fred asked, feigning hurt.  He pouted and then leaned down to kiss her once.  Hermione laughed against his lips before pushing him away, picking up her bookbag and walking around the scarlet couch to pick up her bag of sweets from the velveteen seats.  

“Well, you have a bit of a problem to take care of first, don’t you?” Hermione teased in return.  “Wouldn’t want you coming down to the Great Hall with that in your trousers.  Then they really would have a lot to say.”

Fred had forgotten about his evident arousal.

“Shit, you’re right.”  Fred bit his lower lip as he chuckled and Hermione sighed.  “Well, I suppose I’ll see you in a few minutes then.  Unless you want to – ”

“Fred,” Hermione interjected with a smirk.  “Just go… do what you need to do, alright?  I’ll see you later.”

The Weasley twin laughed and came around the couch to kiss her one last time.  He then jogged up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory.  Hermione followed suit, headed to the girls’ dorm.  She put her bag of sweets on her bed and her bookbag and removed her black robe, draping it over her bed.  She then headed downstairs to the Great Hall.

Their friends hadn’t even noticed that Hermione had been a few minutes behind.  Or when Fred showed up a few minutes later, looking decidedly more comfortable than when Hermione had seen him last.  He winked at her when their mates weren’t looking and Hermione sighed as Dumbledore clinked a glass at the Head table, waiting for the students to quiet down.  Fred was trouble, the trouble she couldn’t help but get into.  Maybe he was right.  Maybe she did enjoy the slow corruption he was causing.

As Dumbledore started to speak, Hermione looked at all of the staff’s faces at the Head table.  Professor McGonagall wore a triumphant and smug look on her face while Snape looked quite put out.  When she caught the eye of her Potions professor, he scowled further.  Hermione returned the scowl with a pointed grin and then turned her full attention to the Headmaster.

That was the last time Snape would try to get the best of her, she was sure about that. 

Author's Note: Wow, so many Kudos!  Thank you much, readers! I hope you liked this chapter and I'm sorry for the delay!